


Nice View

by j520j



Category: Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV), Poirot - Agatha Christie, Poirot - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 09:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12208038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j520j/pseuds/j520j
Summary: A murder has occurred and Poirot barely had time to dress up.





	Nice View

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Bela Vista](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12207729) by [j520j](https://archiveofourown.org/users/j520j/pseuds/j520j). 



> English is not my native language. If you find some grammar atrocity, let me know.

"Poirot!" my voice was loud, perhaps not as loud as the sound of my insistent knocking on the bedroom door where my friend was sleeping, probably a heavy sleep. "Poirot, it's an emergency! Lord Donnán is dead!"

" _Sacrebleu_!" Poirot opened the door so abruptly that my fist, knocking on the door, almost hit his forehead. "Come in, Hastings! Hurry up! And close the door!"

I did as I had been asked, and I watched Poirot walk from side to side, stunned. His hair was disheveled, indicating that he hastily got up from the bed. The news of our host's death must have made him forget his usual need to get dressed before being seen by anyone.

"The butler entered the bedroom to wake him up this morning, as usual." I said, closing the door. "And he found him stretched out on the bed, a stain of blood on the sheets under his lord's body. The poor servant is in shock until now."

"I warned our good lord Donnán that this could happen ... Ah, why do people hire Poirot if they do not listen his advices?!" my friend let out a long breath and reached for the buttons of his pajama shirt. "Well, we'd better get ready, the police should be here soon."

"Huh, yes." I said, realizing that Poirot was beginning to unbutton his pajamas. "Do you ... want privacy so you can change?"

Poirot groaned and gave me an oblique glance. "Honestly, Hastings! Sometimes you are as prude as a maiden!" he said, shaking his head. "Stay here! We need to discuss a strategy before we talk to Lord Donnán's guests."

The reader must forgive me, but the 'strategy' Poirot spoke of went over my head as I watched my friend undress in front of me. Obviously he was not doing this to give me a show or something, but I could not help but be mesmerized.

I had never seen Poirot even in a short-sleeved shirt, even less half-naked. The first thing I noticed was how pale his skin was, obviously because he was always dressed in full clothes, away from the sun. His chesthair was full and dark, in contrast to his white skin. His arms were strong for a man who didn't exercise and his shoulders were broad for someone of short stature.

Poirot had his back to me, only in his pajama pants. His back had few birthmarks scattered in its length. He turned his head for a moment and I felt as if I had been caught spying.

"... do you agree, Hastings?"

"E-eh? Oh, yes ... of course!" I replied, having no idea what he had asked.

My biggest shock, however, was when he started removing his pajama pants. To begin with, his buttocks were generous and very well delineated and firm for a middle-aged man. On the back of his left leg was possible to see a puncture scar just above the knee. When Poirot turned, I noticed that an identical scar was positioned at the same height in front of his thigh.

"My war injury." said my friend, waking me up from my trance.

"Huh?!" I almost jumped.

"You're looking at my scar, aren't you?" Poirot stroked the mark on his thigh. "A bullet went through my leg and it didn't heal completely, I was lucky after all, I could have lost my leg."

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry." I said, trying my best to look natural, since I was watching Poirot's legs for another reason.

My gaze soon rose to the line of his waist and ... oh well. I had heard of the shameless rumors that short men used to be born with a bigger 'equipment' to compensate their short stature. The volume in his pants indicated that, in Poirot's case, this seemed to be a proven fact.

His belly was somewhat protruding, but I found the sight pleasant. His hips were broad, like a woman's. His whole body seemed to be soft to the touch. His white underwear made the curves of his body even more prominent.

"Enjoying the view, _mon bon capitaine_?"

I looked up and saw Poirot smirking. I was speechless, while my friend just laughed a little. He turned around and went to the closet to get his clothes and I could swear he was swinging his hips on purpose as he walked.

A knock on the door made me regain my composure.

"Mr. Poirot?" said a voice from the other side. Probably one of Lord Donnan's employees. "Are you awake?"

"He is!" I replied, the irritation very clear in my voice. "Wait a minute, damn it! We're going down to the hall!"

The woman on the other side of the door apologized, realizing that she had interrupted something.

When I turned my head, Poirot had already covered his torso with a shirt and buttoned the buttons. I could hear the soft murmur of his muffled laughter as he sat on the bed to wear his socks. Trying to break that awkward mood, I distilled some conversation about Lord Donnán's death and my friend was polite enough to fall into the conversation and pretend nothing had happened.

After covering those (beautiful) legs with elegant trousers, buttoning his belts, tying his tie, and straightening his vest, Poirot asked for my help to wear his coat. I had done this several times in the past, but after seeing him half-naked the fact of touching his shoulders seemed inappropriately intimate.

When he was ready, we both left the room. Poirot poked me lightly with his elbow as we made our way down to the drawing-room.

"If you wanted to see the splendor of Poirot before, _mon cher_ , you just had to ask!"

"Good Lord, Poirot!" I exclaimed, trying to regain my wits as I prepared to face the other guests.


End file.
